


One Summer's Day

by ZodiacRiver



Series: Blue Spring Ride (YueSing High School AU) [4]
Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 15:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19443853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZodiacRiver/pseuds/ZodiacRiver
Summary: Sing spends the afternoon with Yue-Lung with a plan in his mind.





	One Summer's Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this was written for Banana Fish Mini Bang 2019 ^w^ 
> 
> My artist is the very kind [aeshiji](https://aeshiji.tumblr.com/)

Nighttime. Sing can’t sleep. The window is opened, blowing in warm winds and occasional cooler breeze, and the smell of barbeque that his neighbors must be having. Sometimes insects would enter, only to buzz for a while and exit again. The clock has tried to warn him that it’s terribly late, but Sing still can’t sleep. He lies on his back on the bed, warm and a little wet with sweat. His eyes are fixed on the yellowing ceiling, where dirty splatters of stains have permanently stained it.

There is a reason why Sing can’t sleep, no matter how long he closes his eyes and tries to empty his mind. Tomorrow is the last day of school. There will be no serious lessons, but students should come to enjoy their last time with their classmates before summer vacation begins. Sing doesn’t mind that. He likes the games, the potluck, and the opportunity to do whatever he wants with his friends during free time. There is one thing burdening his mind, though.

It’s Yue-Lung’s last day at the school.

Literally. He’s graduating, and Sing doesn’t know how to process that in his mind as a fact. For the whole year, they’ve been quite good friends, despite being two years apart. Maybe they’ve been something more than just ‘friends’, too. Sing likes him, and he somehow discovered that Yue-Lung likes him too, but they never actually speak about their feelings out loud. It’s a complicated relationship. They always roll on being friends, doing things that friends would do, and everyone who sees them together would think of a nice friendship bond.

But Sing knows, that they are so much more than that. There is love between them; a growing crush that blossomed into…yes, Sing knows, love. The thought makes him feel silly. He curses silently at himself, covering his red face with his hands, although there isn’t anyone else in the room.

Sing continuously writes secret poems for Yue-Lung. They are romantic—too romantic to be written by a high-schooler, even, and Sing has gotten more and more eloquent as he writes them. He knows Yue-Lung read them once, by accident, but Sing never showed them to him openly, earnestly, like maybe he wants to.. He wants to do so many things; he wants to properly confess his love to Yue-Lung, show him what he’s written…but time is running out. He had a whole year before, but now he only has less than twenty-four hours.

Sighing, Sing rolls himself on his side. Right. It’s now or never.

Sing only sleeps for a few hours, but he wakes early to run his plan for the day. He’s making lunch for Yue-Lung.

He follows a video tutorial from YouTube. Because he’s in a rush, he chooses whichever video shows up first. For a first-timer like him, the step-by-step instructions are unclear and he doesn’t have all the ingredients needed. Sing manages to perfectly roll the eggs, but absolutely destroys the octopus-shaped sausages. At least they are supposed to be octopus-shaped, but they end up looking like monsters. It’s…unpresentable, but Sing doesn’t throw it away. He’ll tell Yue-Lung that it’s an alien or something.

He looks over his handmade creation. It’s perfect. The rolled eggs, the alien sausage, the neatly arranged vegetables, the face of a cat made from seaweed over rice—yes, Yue-Lung will like this very much.

During the periods before lunch, Sing is both agitated and excited. The games and free periods the teachers give seem boring and not at all as fun as he expected, because Yue-Lung’s not there. He thinks about him all the time. Sing wants to see him.

A wave of sadness crashes, knowing that after today, they won’t be able to see each other as frequently. In all honesty, though, it only hurts as much as it does because Sing has feelings for him, and he can’t say them.

Soon, he will.

The bell rings when he dozes off, waking him up immediately. Sing grabs the wrapped lunch box. He looks at it hesitantly, as if considering once again whether or not he should give it to Yue-Lung. He’s scared, for a moment, that Yue-Lung will think that he’s doing too much.

Overcoming his fear and bracing himself, he brings the lunch box with him and walks to Yue-Lung’s classroom. He stands in front of the open door, peeking inside to look for signs of his friend, but before he can look, someone runs passed him, body pushing against Sing’s and making him stumble.

He panics, if he falls, he’ll drop the lunch box, so he desperately tries to regain his balance. Sing would’ve fallen if it weren’t for the firm hands that suddenly grasp his shoulders.

Sing looks back to see his savior. His smile becomes a foolish grin, then a nervous chuckle. Of course, it’s Yue-Lung.

“Hello, Sing.”

“Hi.”

Yue-Lung throws him a sweet smile and steps into his classroom without another word, so Sing says, “Yue-Lung, wait!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I—“ he doesn’t want to stutter. Not now. Not here. Not when the moment is so impeccable, and Yue-Lung is wearing his seemingly ever present patient smile. “I made you lunch.”

Sing observes the change in Yue-Lung’s expression. He looks a little confused at first, then completely perplexed, and stays at that for a moment. Sing is afraid that he is making a mistake because Yue-Lung doesn’t say anything. And then, much to Sing’s relief, Yue-Lung grins. It’s a grin so bright and shy that Sing can’t help but return it with a more sheepish beam.

“You made me lunch?” he asks, confirming that he’s heard Sing correctly.

“I did,” Sing nods. Yue-Lung takes the box from Sing’s hand carefully. “It’s only rolled omelet and sausages with rice and veggies. It’s not much, but I hope that’s okay. I, uh, was in a hurry, so maybe the food doesn’t look so nice.”

Yue-Lung chuckles. “Let’s go to the school garden and eat together, how about that? Why don’t you bring your lunch too?”

“Oh, my class had a breakfast potluck this morning. I’m stuffed.”

“Mhm, okay. Then, let’s get going, Sing,” Yue-Lung says. He puts an arm around Sing’s shoulders as they walk. Sing walks stiffly, and the garden feels so far away like that. They walk slowly, not saying anything to each other.

The garden is deserted, save for a few teachers and middle schoolers. They sit under a large tree, and when Yue-Lung opens the lunch box, the bright smile on his face is back. Sing kind of misses it already. He kind of longs to see it every time. “This is really cute,” he comments. Yue-Lung holds up the weirdly modified sausage with a fork. “Though, what is this supposed to be?”

“An alien,” Sing replies. He doesn’t want to be honest and say it’s a failed product of what’s supposed to be an octopus.

“I feel bad eating all of this, Sing. It’s just so adorable.”

“But if you don’t eat it, it’ll be a waste.”

“You’re right. Then,” he takes a bite of the egg. “Mm! It’s good, Sing! I love your cooking!”

“Oh—thank you,” Sing looks away to give himself and his face time to cool down. “I’m happy you like it.”

“I’ll have to destroy the kitty,” Yue-Lung scoops a spoonful of rice. Sing thinks it’s probably impolite to stare when someone is eating, even if he wants to see Yue-Lung’s pretty face and delighted expressions while they’re there, so he looks down at the grass.

It’s a really sunny afternoon. The air is warm, leaning more to hot, and sweat drips from his temple down to his cheek. The flowers planted around the garden sway lightly, like pendulums, as the summer breeze blows lazily. Leaves rustle and birds sing, the sounds like harmonious music. Sing is sleepy.

Of course; he didn’t get enough sleep last night. He lies his head on the tree bark, feeling that it’s rough and hard and uncomfortable, but his eyes flutter closed easily. His head lolls to the side, and hits something more comfortable than the trunk.

He’s very near to the realm of unconsciousness, hopefully whatever he’s lying his head on doesn’t move. With a start, Sing sits straight back up, realizing that he’s been lying on Yue-Lung’s shoulder.

“Sleepy?” Yue-Lung asks. He’s half done with his food. “It’s okay, my shoulder is yours.”

“But, I must be heavy.”

“You’re as light as grapes.”

Sing smiles and puts his head back down, this time he can’t sleep though. There is no way he can sleep like that. He just smiles the whole time, feeling so lucky to be in this situation. This is a once-in-a-lifetime moment. He won’t ever take it for granted, he won’t ever trade it for anything else.

“You’re quiet today. What’s wrong? I hear that people who are unusually quiet actually have a lot to say.”

Sing almost forgets about his resolve. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words roll off his tongue. The timing is off; it doesn’t quite click . Maybe right now isn’t the time to confess. Maybe later.

“I’m fine.”

“Come on, cheer up. Vacation is on its way. Aren’t you happy?”

“Well…I feel indifferent, I think.”

“Mm. I can say I’m the same. It’s just that,” he pauses, “it’ll be lonely without you.”

Sing shuts his eyes tightly. “It’ll be lonely without you too, Yue-Lung.”

They don’t speak anymore. Yue-Lung stops eating, and Sing stares sightlessly through half-lidded eyes. It’ll be lonely without each other. And they both dread thinking about it.

“That’s the bell,” Yue-Lung says after a long, ringing silence between the two.

“Oh, right, that is,” Sing gets up quickly and helps Yue-Lung get up too. His palms are sweaty, Yue-Lung comments on it, and they both laugh.

Sing and Yue-Lung walk back to the building and before they part ways, Yue-Lung catches Sing’s wrist. “Let’s hang out for a bit after school.”

Yue-Lung is looking at him, even if Sing tries to avert his eyes away. His eyes are hopeful for a positive answer, and, Yue-Lung might not notice himself doing it, but his thumb gently caresses the skin above Sing’s wrist. Sing wants to say yes, but his throat feels parched and closed.

“Sing?”

_ I should just confess now,  _ he thinks.  _ Before it’s too late. _

__

“Yue-Lung.”

“Yeah?”

“I—“ he stops to breathe. “Of course.”

Yue-Lung nods with a smile, then leaves him without another word. Sing wants to scream for acting so weird in front of him. It must have put him in a different mood.

Sing knows that he screwed up a lot today, but he wishes, he sincerely does, that the rest of the day will be fine.

The weather is not fine.

At noon, grey clouds accumulate in the now hazy sky, and not so long after, it starts to drizzle. Later, there is a downpour. Not so heavy, but enough to cool the air down. Raindrops pitter-patter on the windows, showing no signs of stopping, even when the final bell rings.

Sing takes his time emptying his locker and books under his desk, until he is the last one in the classroom. When Yue-Lung enters, Sing doesn’t look up. He is struggling to close the zipper of his bulging backpack.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Yue-Lung offers. With a single pull, the bag closes. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” Sing says gratefully. “It’s raining. Maybe we should hang out somewhere indoors, like the mall. Or do you want to—“

Yue-Lung stays silent, but Sing stops as Yue-Lung raises a folded umbrella.

So, off they go. They walk, without knowing their destination, together under the umbrella. It makes Sing giddy. The umbrella is small, so they have to fit each other under it by being as close as possible to each other. Somehow, the gap between them closes even more when Yue-Lung holds his hand.

Sing wants to burst. His heart feels too heavy to bear anymore. He wants to burst, into bubbles, into a cloud of butterflies, into glitter, into everything else he showers his poems with. Yue-Lung’s hands are a little wet with rainwater, but still warm. Sing feels safe in that hold.

When Sing sees a building, presumably a restaurant, with a canopy above it, he drags Yue-Lung there, running and pulling Yue-Lung along with him. The mud on his shoes can be washed later. For now, he needs to be quick, before the flame of his courage is put out.

He is dipping his finger in dangerous waters. He is toeing a dangerous line.

“What is it?” Yue-Lung asks, hand still intertwined with his. It hits Sing, how Yue-Lung doesn’t want to let go. His hold is not tight, but strong and gentle. The realization closes Sing’s mouth. It should be motivating him, because the small act serves as a proof that Yue-Lung probably loves him too; but it just hurts him.

Because he knows that, he will not have another chance.

“Yue-Lung,” he finally speaks, albeit his voice is restricted and raspy at the edges. His tongue feels thick, feels like it’s not his.

“Yeah? What’s wrong, Sing? Are you sick?”

“No,” Sing answers, shaking his head. “I’ve always wanted to tell you something.”

“Then, do tell,” Yue-Lung says.

“It’s suffocating me,” Sing begins. “The feeling is suffocating me. I think that, if I don’t let it out, if I don’t let you know, I’ll die of asphyxia one day. I’m being sincere.”

Yue-Lung looks at him, as if he wants Sing to continue.

“I love you. You might not want to hear that from someone like me, but I really love you. I know we’re just high-schoolers—well, at least, I am, as you’re not anymore now, and this may sound like a lame confession, but it’s true. My words aren’t based on a crush, Yue-Lung, they’re—based on my heart.”

Yue-Lung doesn’t say anything. He still wants him to continue.

“You enthrall me, not just because you’re beautiful, but because your heart is so gentle. And I—it makes me feel that if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be who I am right now. Ever since I met you, I’ve changed. I’ve become a stronger person. Maybe it’s because I’ve found someone I want to protect.” Sing doesn’t stop. “When we are together, I can’t help but want to hold you. I want to be closer to you. But you’re graduating now, and it seems that I have wasted so much time. I still want to be with you. Please, Yue-Lung, I want to know about your feelings too. I love—“

Sing glances up to see Yue-Lung frown, and it breaks him in an instant, but before he can pronounce who he loves, Yue-Lung pulls him, and the next thing he knows is that he’s hugging him; arms around Sing and head buried in the crook of his neck.

Yue-Lung is crying.

‘”Sing, oh, Sing,” he sobs. “I love you, I love you so much.”

“Yue-Lung—“

Sing doesn’t know how to say any more. Not that there is anything left to say. He’s said everything he had wanted to say; the contents of his heart has been spilled, drip by drip, droplet by droplet into Yue-Lung’s hands. And Yue-Lung accepts it, and it makes Sing want to cry too.

He’s glad.

“Being in love feels nice,” Yue-Lung’s body is still quivering. “You remind me of my mom, Sing, always so gentle and kind. This is the kind of love I really miss. Even if I graduate, I know that we’ll always find each other eventually, I know that our paths are bound to cross.”

He draws circles across Yue-Lung’s back. Somehow, he feels the same. The sourness in his chest has been lifted up and is replaced by relief. “You know,” Sing chuckles. “I want to kiss you right now.”

Yue-Lung pulls back. He cups Sing’s cheeks in his hands, saying, “you’ve grown bold. I wonder where you picked up the habit from.”

His eyes are glimmering with tears, but, still, he looks beautiful. His head is tilted to the side, lips stretched into a broad smile. Yue-Lung looks thoroughly happy. Sing wonders how this boy had just confessed him a heartfelt love, how Yue-Lung can love him back; it feels like magic, real-life magic that flies in the air.

“Um.”

“Can you please repeat what you said before? I didn’t quite hear you right.”

“ _ Um _ .”

“Before that.”

“I—want to kiss you right now.”

Yue-Lung tucks a stray hair behind his own ear, then, slowly, just so that Sing sees it coming, he leans down, and kisses him. The rain stops pouring, the sun peeks from the white clouds again, and they are together, and that’s all that matters. The brush of Yue-Lung’s lips against his is all that matters.

“Feeling better?” Yue-Lung asks.

“There is one more thing,” Sing admits. He fumbles around his bag, taking out piles of textbooks among notebooks and crumpled papers and even snack wrappers. 

Yue-Lung stares at him and laughs, “Putting those back in will be a hard work, I’m sure. Should I help you?”

“No, it’s fine, it’s fine. Here it is,” he pulls out a blue notebook. Its cover is smeared with ink here and there, and the spine is no longer in the best condition, and Sing is embarrassed to present it to him, but Yue-Lung takes it in his hand without hesitation. It’s his book of poems. The one he’s been filling, scribbling in every day without fail, for an entire year.

“Why?”

“I want you to have it. Read all of it. I’m…more articulate when I write. I wrote, Yue-Lung, days and nights, about my feelings, the real ones, maybe sugarcoated a little with metaphors and stuff, but I hope you don’t mind,” Sing explains.

“I think it’s sweet how you’re always so raw and honest, Sing. This is why I really like you,” he flips over the pages. “I love your poems. They’re lovely. As lovely as the proverbial tales of a man of misfit.”

Sing smiles when Yue-Lung quotes a line from one of his poems. “‘And as beautiful as your eyes in the whirlpool of love.’”

They both laugh. It feels inexplicably refreshing. It feels like what it means to be alive.

Sing is glad.

**Author's Note:**

> Say hi to me on twitter: [icryoverships](https://twitter.com/Icryoverships)


End file.
